By Presidential Order

By

Presidential Order

by Anthony Anglorus

Copyright © Anthony Anglorus 2016

This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

Anthony Cordwell, writing as Anthony Anglorus, has asserted his right under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988 (United Kingdom) to be identified as the author of this work.

Book cover design and layout by Ellie Bockert Augsburger of

Creative Digital Studios.

http://www.CreativeDigitalStudios.com

Cover design features Chi-Rho licensed by Alamy.com

ISBN: 9781513617091

Printed in the United States of America or the United Kingdom.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Acknowledgements

I need to thank a few people in relation to this novel.

My wife Tanya of course, who stood steadfastly by me as I swung from depressed to anxious to elated and back. It was she too who saw through one particularly dense piece of convoluted logic to provide me with a simple answer.

Then there is Daniel Willis, who edited so thoroughly and pointed out where it became confusing. He also made some telling points about the cover.

Ellie Bockert Augsburger, who created such a stunning cover from a very rudimentary idea.

Finally, the two Republican Nomination candidates, one of whom has subsequently been elected to the Presidency, who were arguing so vehemently about religion.

Preface

The idea initially arose in early December 2015, just after two of the American presidential nomination candidates had got into one of their spats:

I’m more religious than you.

No, you’re not.

Am too!

Shut up or I’ll set my dad onto you. (Not really, but I’m sure you get my drift.)

I wondered briefly ‘What if America were to elect a radical fundamentalist president?’ Then I wondered ‘and what if the American Military had developed time travel?’

Thus was a story born. One of the most enriching parts of being an author is doing the research, and with the combination I had in mind, I had to research three key areas: American political structures and traditions, quantum physics and finally, he whom we know as Jesus Christ. As a branch of the last mentioned, I also had to research Mary Magdala.

I found that even as a sceptical Christian, using the name ‘Jesus’ carried far too much emotional baggage to allow me to research objectively, so I wrote and researched about Jeshu, which was his real name but carries no baggage.

Whilst editing the novel, my editor asked me why America would ever elect such a man as President. Towards the end of the editing process, America decided, and he reminded me of that question and added: Now I see.

For clarity, I had the story idea in December 2015, first wrote it down in January 2016, started writing a month later and wrote the final words of the first draft near Biarritz in August 2016. I learned that America had elected an Evangelist Vice President three months later.

Prelude

April 6, 27 AD

Bethesda

The sun kissed the mountaintops, signaling that the day was almost over. In the distance, a line of clouds peeped over the horizon, waiting for the sun to retreat so that they could slide in unnoticed. Two men were wandering through the olive grove, deep in conversation.

Both sported full, black beards but the taller of the two men had dark, sun-whipped skin and crinkles at the corner of his piercing black eyes. His companion had a more sallow complexion and was a few years younger. His head was bent in concentration as he listened to his companion.

Judas, this is critical to my mission. I need you to do it.

But Master, you ask a lot. I love you, and betrayal goes against my every impulse.

I am asking you to do it, so in reality, it is not betrayal.

But others will perceive it that way.

God will know.

Of course, and so will you; that does not make it any easier. The other disciples will despise me, and indeed I shall despise myself.

I know I am asking a lot of you. But only you have the capacity to comprehend why it is necessary, and I can trust only you to carry it through.

You know I will do it for you. I will do anything for you. That doesn’t make it any easier.

Thank you, my friend. I understand that you will be reviled here on earth, but in Heaven, you will be a hero.

I am not sure how much easier that makes it. But yes, I’ll do it.

Excellent. You need do nothing yet, but I shall let you know when the time arises.

I shall try to be looking the other way at that moment!

The men clasped arms and turned back towards the west, where the sun was now hiding behind the mountains.

Chapter One

January 25, 2049

The Oval Office

Washington, DC

Tell me, how do we get such detailed information? It’s certainly more detailed than I was expecting.

President Samuel Fetter was leaning back in his chair, his hands steepled before him, staring at the slightly overweight figure seated before him. Fetter knew that he presented an imposing figure with his angular height and stern visage, and was using it to full effect.

The Director of the CIA hesitated, tapping his finger on the brown leather briefcase in his lap.

Your predecessor never wanted to know our methods. Are you sure you want to know? Deniability and all that?

Director Kane, I want to know. Indeed, I insist on knowing.

Very well. Understand, Mr. President, I was not expecting this request and did not bring any briefing papers. But, I will do my best.

He leaned back in his chair and fixed his eyes on the curtain behind the President.

Intelligence organizations always have the disadvantage that we usually arrive at the party after it has finished. To overcome this, we employed quantum physicists and mathematicians to develop temporal displacement technology.

Which means what?

We have a time machine. We can go back in time

Silence enveloped the room.

I thought that was impossible!

So do most people, which is why it is so secret and why it is so valuable. But scientists discovered thirty years ago that it was possible to travel faster than light, and we have just taken that discovery a few steps further. In fact, we only need to regress a short period of time.

Well presumably, you know where the meetings were, so that part should be easy.

That’s what I thought. But apparently not. I have no idea exactly what they do, but I do know that it takes a lot of astronomy, physics, and mathematics. We need absolute precision.

The President sat, deep in thought for several minutes. A tic flickered into life beside his left eye, and as he thought, his lips slowly crouched into a pucker.

But in theory, you could send someone back two thousand years.

In theory, yes, but the calculations would probably take years. At that distance in time, too, we have no idea where things are, and there is the risk of emerging inside a wall or a tree.

Nevertheless, I want it done.

But why? What’s the point? We can’t come back—yet. We have scientists working on it, of course, but at present it’s a one-way trip

So what was the point of developing it in the first place?

We typically only need to go back a few days or weeks. We send a listening device back, and a recording device to a concealed location nearby. Then we just collect the recording device in the present.

I see. Fetter stood abruptly, unwinding to his full six foot five inch height. He paced, deep in thought. Director Kane sat patiently and watched. Abruptly, Fetter sat down facing the director.

I want you to visually record the Crucifixion and Resurrection. It is your task to facilitate it. Our next briefing is, I believe, a week from today?

Kane nodded.

Very well. At that briefing, you can tell me how you plan to execute my order.

The director stood up.

I shall do my best, Mr. President. But you must realize that it is a difficult ask, and almost certainly an expensive one.

Director Kane, that was an order, not a request. As for the cost, I am the man chosen by the people to represent them, which means that my decisions are the decision of the people, who are your paymasters. You would do well to keep that in mind. Meanwhile, you know the objective.

Director Kane nodded curtly and walked briskly to the door, a look of irritation twisting his normally bland face.

1:00 a.m., April 8, 27 AD.

The Mount of Olives near Jerusalem

The group wandered around the Mount until they came to the Garden of Gethsemane. Idly chatting amongst themselves, they entered and started to climb. Reaching a small plateau, they paused for a moment to catch their breath. Tonight, the moon was hidden but the stars were doing their very best to provide some light. The stifling heat of the day had long gone, but just here, the grass underfoot still retained a little heat.

Jeshu was frowning deeply and his hands were beginning to tremble. He thrust his hands into folds in his robe and looked around.

Shimon, Jakov, Johanan, please come with me. The rest of you stay here awhile and rest.

The four men continued along the path and around a bend.

My soul is deeply troubled. Keep guard here for me; I want to pray alone.

He climbed the hill a little further, and then turned aside into a small clearing surrounded by trees and brush. Falling to his knees, he began to pray.

Father, if there is another way to achieve this, please show me now. If it pleases you, take this cup of darkness from my grasp.

After a few minutes, he returned to find his three companions sleeping.

Shimon are you asleep? Couldn’t you stay awake this short time? Ah well, the spirit is willing, I suppose but the flesh is weak.

Returning to the clearing, he prayed again. His eyes snapped open as light suddenly illuminated his closed eyelids but it was just the moon turning up late. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind and waited again. After a long while, he shrugged, climbed to his feet and walked back down to his slumbering companions.

Well, you may as well sleep on now and rest. You’re going to need it, but I hope you’ll be better guards for yourselves than you’ve been for me tonight! No matter, I’m sure that they’ll be coming for me shortly.

He sat and waited, himself keeping guard over his sleeping disciples while he contemplated the stars.

An hour later, he heard the crunch of a group of men climbing the rocky path to the Garden. Wearily, he looked towards the rising path and saw the glow from numerous torches in the distance. His hands, which had quieted for a while, began to tremble anew and he hastily stood and plunged them deep inside the folds of his robe.

Looking down at his sleeping guards, he smiled wryly and quietly moved across to the other side of the path before descending a few yards. Finally, he saw the figures bearing the torches round the bend in the path.

As they neared, he saw that they were a dozen or so temple guards and one member of the Sanhedrin, who walked beside Judas. Jeshu relaxed a little.

There he is.

Judas pushed his way through the leading guards, and rushed to greet Jeshu.

Rabbi.

He kissed Jeshu on his cheek. Jeshu merely looked him in the eye, nodded and gently smiled as the temple guards rushed to grab him.

The noise had aroused Shimon, Johanan and Jakov. They suddenly appeared around the corner and began struggling with the guards who were standing between them and Jeshu. Shimon jumped onto the back of a guard and wrapped his arm tightly around his neck. As the man tried to release himself, he dropped his sword upon which Shimon threw him to the ground. Quickly, he bent to pick up the discarded weapon. With a roar, he hurled himself into the throng, swinging the sword.

A scream rent the air and one of the men dropped to the ground clutching the side of his head. Jeshu looked up sharply.

No, Shimon. Flee, all of you, now. I need you all alive.

He then turned to the priest hovering in the background.

Have you really come out to arrest a rabbi in the same way as a thief or a murderer? Armed to the teeth and bristling with aggression? You could have taken me at any time when I was preaching in the temple.

The priest looked down and shuffled his feet a little, then turned and walked away.

Jeshu called after him.

It is shameful that the priesthood has sunk to such levels. Yours is a holy office and you do not serve God as you ought. But you will do as you must.

His hands were bound tightly, and he grimaced as the ropes chafed his wrist. The last of the soldiers returned from fruitless pursuit of the fleeing disciples and Jeshu smiled with satisfaction. At least three of his key men had escaped.

A soldier pushed him in the back, causing him to stumble slightly, but he regained his footing and was led down the hill.

As they rounded the bend on the rocky path, a figure leaped from the undergrowth and began struggling with the guards surrounding Jeshu. Kicking and punching, he successfully cleared a path through the throng, but just as he reached Jeshu, he was hauled to the ground.

Wriggling, he slipped out of his clothes and broke free, leaving the guards clutching fabric. Lithely, he ran naked into the undergrowth and disappeared from sight. A quickly suppressed cry announced when the erstwhile rescuer encountered thorns. Three guards ran into the thicket in pursuit, and for a while there were sounds of thrashing around, but finally, the noise abated. Jeshu watched with satisfaction as the soldiers gave up the pursuit and returned to escort duty.

The streets of Jerusalem were quiet, but not silent. The soldiers barged their way past anyone foolish enough not to flee, alternately pushing and dragging Jeshu with them.

To one side, Jeshu saw Shimon Petru shadowing the soldiers in a parallel street, and Johanan running ahead of them, anxious to witness events. After a particularly hard push, he turned to the soldier behind him.

I walk at the same pace as he who walks ahead of me. Why do you need to push me?

The soldier drew back his fist and punched Jeshu in the jaw who recoiled and stumbled, occasioning another push.

I push you because I want to and because I can. And I’ve been wanting to hit you since you cut off Malthus’s ear.

I have cut no-one.

No, but one of your people did. Makes no difference. Now shut up and keep going. Unless you want some more.

Jeshu faced forwards again and continued. After a while, he commented over his shoulder This is not the way to the Temple.

A fist hit him on the side of his head and he reeled, bumping into the soldier alongside him who in turn punched him in the stomach.

Eventually, they pulled into a side street and entered a large, sumptuous house. Jesus was bound tightly and then led into a large room. Annas, father of High Priest Caiaphas and himself a former High Priest, sat in a throne-like chair eating grapes. A goblet of wine sat on a table beside him.

Once Jeshu was standing in the center of the room with guards on either side of him, Annas put down the grapes, took a sip of wine and stood. Like a tiger stalking his prey, he strode slowly back and forth in front of the prisoner, looking at him with speculative, predatory eyes. Eventually he spoke.

I know you are a Rabbi, and I know you have many followers. Tell me where to find them.

I know not; they fled when your soldiers came barging up the hill.

Very well. Tell me of your teachings.

I have been very open, I have spoken freely to all the world. I have spoken many times in synagogues and indeed in the Temple itself, all of the places where the Jews come together. I have said nothing covertly, my words are all public knowledge. So why do you question me? Ask those of your people who were listening, I am quite sure that they know what I have said.

One of the temple officials strode across and slapped Jeshu in the face.

This is no way to answer a question from the High Priest!

If I have said anything wrong, then please say what it is. But if I spoke the truth, why did you hit me?

Pah, interrupted Annas, We’re wasting our time here. Send him to Caiaphas, let him sort it out.

The official looked contemptuously at Jeshu, slapped him again and then led the soldiers from the room, Jeshu stumbling between them.

The soldiers pushed through the crowds thronging the streets. Jeshu noticed the Temple towering over them to their right, and half turned towards it. He was quickly knocked back into line.

Why do we not go to the Temple? Surely, this is a matter for the Sanhedrin.

The soldier behind jabbed him in the ribs with the butt end of his spear. The Temple is for believers and honest Jews. We’re not going to soil its’ precincts with the likes of you.

Once they were past the Temple, they suddenly turned aside and ushered Jeshu down a side street, which had less traffic. Towards the end, they turned into an even narrower street and then stopped at a magnificent doorway.

The lead soldier rapped on the door, which was opened almost instantly by a well-dressed slave. Stepping outside to check who was there, his eyes widened as he saw the bruised and bloodied man in their midst. Immediately, he stepped aside and beckoned the soldiers inside, nodding faintly to Jeshu, who paused briefly. The soldier behind, who had seen the gesture, punched Jeshu in the back to urge him forward and glared at the slave, who ducked his head. Closing the door behind them, he rushed to lead them into the inner courtyard, where most of the Sanhedrin was assembled.

Torches borne by numerous smartly dressed slaves lit the area brightly, revealing an area of comfort and grace; water babbled down a waterfall in the corner, mosaics adorned the floor and bright colors flickered in the background on the walls behind the slaves. Most of the Sanhedrin stood around the square talking animatedly amongst themselves, but the high priest Caiaphas reclined upon a sofa placed gracefully alongside a stone bench. Jeshu was pushed into the center and the soldiers stood back respectfully. A silence descended upon the assembled throng whilst Caiaphas eyed the sorry figure before him.

Finally, he heaved his bulk erect and walked forward.

We have already listened to testimony of your preaching. We have heard tell of sedition and heresy. You are a learned man, you know what penalties the Torah prescribes for such crimes. What do you have to say for yourself?

Jeshu looked hard at the high priest before responding. Nothing in my preaching conflicts with the Torah. Is the Sanhedrin so unsure of its grounds that they deny the accused the opportunity to hear these accusations for himself?

Very well, never let it be said that I was unjust. Captain, bring out the last two witnesses.

The captain detached himself from the soldiers standing at the edge of the clearing, signaled to two soldiers to follow, and left the pool of light. After a short delay, they returned with a man and a woman, who both stood nervously before the high priest. The man seemed to be studying Caiaphas’s feet whilst the woman looked in fragile defiance at Jeshu, all the while fidgeting with a fringe on the edge of her garment.

Repeat for us what you heard this man say, ordered the high priest.

Well, sir, your holiness, he was saying that he could destroy the Temple and rebuild it in three days.

The woman nodded, That was it, in three days!

Caiaphas turned towards Jeshu, Well? Have you nothing to say? What do you mean by this?

Jeshu looked at Caiaphas and at the two witnesses, who squirmed under his scrutiny. He shook his head sadly.